


Powerless

by meridian_rose (meridianrose)



Category: Midnight Texas (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chuy and Madonna appear briefly as does Rasta, Community: smallfandombang, Creek does not exist in this fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Joe saves the day, Loss of Powers, Whump, manfred whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-18 10:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianrose/pseuds/meridian_rose
Summary: When Manfred is stabbed by a client his life is only saved by Lem's intervention. However Manfred loses his psychic abilities in the process, leaving him feeling lost and without purpose, unable to speak to his grandmother.His friends rally round, supporting him, trying to fix the problem, and hunting for the client who inflicted the near fatal wound. Midnighters are family and they don't take kindly to someone hurting one of their own.





	Powerless

Manfred didn't get a sense of anything being wrong until it was too late.

The client was a nervous young woman in full mourning dress, which was weird, but not suspicious. Wearing a long black dress, a black hat with a veil that shielded most of her face, and a black coat, she was subdued as he let her into the house.

Pale hands twisted around each other as she took a seat at his dining table, an onyx ring on her left index finger, a small scar visible on her right thumb.

She'd begged to meet him, said she'd met other psychics but they were frauds. She desperately needed to talk to her deceased fiancé and after six months of being duped and disappointed someone had mentioned to her that Manfred Bernardo was the real deal. She'd pay him cash, she'd come to him if he needed, she'd give him a glowing review if he'd only help her.

Manfred had been weighing up the cost of travelling to a hotel to meet the woman, Sara, when she called him and said she had urgent business in Victoria but could make a stop in Midnight. She was half an hour away.

He ought to have wondered more about how she got his exact address, he ought to have tried to put her off, he should at least have made her go to the diner with him. It wasn't as if he could summon up her fiancé in his house since it was warded against the dead.

But Manfred did none of those things, choosing instead to scope out what she wanted first, and so Sara sat opposite him and took out a polished wooden box, long and shallow, placing it on the table. He thought it probably contained a pen, something meaningful to the deceased, possibly even an heirloom.

"This belonged to your fiancé?"

Sara nodded. She began to sob. A cloth handkerchief was pulled from her coat pocket and dabbed beneath the veil. He'd offered to take her coat and hat but she'd refused. Grief did strange things to people or he'd have been more suspicious and less trusting.

"I'm sorry," she said breathlessly. "Could I get a glass of water?"

"Of course," Manfred said, moving to the sink. He was glad to give her some space and allow her to pull herself together before they began an emotional discussion.

There was a click as the box opened behind him. Sara shifted in her seat.

He turned, glass in hand, to find Sara right behind him wielding a dagger.

Before he could say anything, she plunged the blade into his chest, just below the rib cage. It sank fully up to the hilt. The glass fell from his hand, smashing as it hit the floor.

"Fucking psychic," Sara snarled as Manfred stumbled back against the sink. He stared numbly at the handle of the blade – black with a complex silver pattern on it – and sank to the floor. "You deserve worse than this!"

It was the front door opening that saved him, Fiji letting herself in, calling to him. "Manfred, I made –"

Sara stared at Fiji as she came into view and Fiji stared back, mouth dropping as she saw the terrible scene. 

Fiji dropped the plate of cookies she was holding, raised her hands protectively, magic gathering around her. Sara fled through the back door.

Manfred clasped the knife, pulling it free even as Fiji protested. "Manfred, no!"

It hurt worse than it had going in and blood gushed from the wound, a warm torrent. The bloodied blade fell to the floor.

"I'll get help," Fiji said and ran back outside, skirts swishing around her knees.

He'd rather she had stayed, because he was fairly certain this was a mortal wound, and he didn't want to die alone. 

On reflection he should have taken Sara to the trailer where at least Xylda would have been there with him. She might have been more suspicious of the woman. She might have warned him when Sara pulled out the knife. And if not, perhaps he and Xylda could have crossed over together. Perhaps they still could.

He was cold and sick and tired. Dying. He'd soon see the other side for himself. He closed his eyes.

"Hey, don't sleep!" Bobo's voice was urgent. He shook Manfred's shoulder. "Come on."

"Bring him outside." That was Olivia, take-charge as always.

"I don't think we should move him," Bobo said.

"He won't survive long enough for an ambulance to get here," Olivia said. "And Lem can't come inside the house. Manfred!"

Manfred forced his eyelids open. Olivia and Bobo were now both crouched down at his side.

"Hold on," Olivia told Manfred. "Just a little longer."

Bobo and Olivia lifted him between them, though he couldn't hold his own weight at all and they had to drag him to the front door, past the unbroken but upturned plate and fallen cookies, leaving a blood trail across the lounge. Bobo would probably knock something off the security deposit for that, an odd thing to be concerned about, but the world was distant and unreal and the crimson blood was the only thing Manfred could be certain of, leading his mind off on tangents.

They lay him on the ground outside his house, Fiji kneeling down to press one hand against his cheek. "It's going to be okay," she said, and she didn't seem to believe it herself, voice trembling, but he appreciated the sentiment. His eyes closed again against his will.

Then strong arms gathered him up as if he was a babe in arms and the wind caressed his cheeks. He was placed down with care. It wasn't the hard ground beneath him now but a soft bed.

"Drink," Lem said, pressing something against his lips.

Manfred didn’t believe he had the strength but someone lifted his shoulders, pulled at his jaw. Warm salty liquid dripped onto his tongue.

"Drink," Lem said again, an order this time.

He swallowed and was allowed to lie back down. Someone - Lem, presumably, given the cool, large hand – brushed his hair back from his forehead. Soft warm hands grasped one of his hands tightly, Olivia, judging from the faint cry of frustration.

Then came oblivion.

*

Manfred was surprised that heaven, or purgatory, or even hell might look like Olivia's bedroom. But there was no mistaking the red colour scheme, the décor elegant yet inviting.

Olivia herself was sat next to him, gently wiping his torso with a towel. She noticed he was awake, put the towel aside to reach for a glass.

"Manfred?" Olivia's relief was obvious. "Here."

He lifted himself into a sitting position, expecting pain where there was none. The blood loss had overwhelmed his senses, dulling the pain, but he was anticipating feeling the injury now he'd survived, somehow. He took the glass Olivia offered, took a few deep gulps of water.

She was letting him drink fluids, he realised, and looked down. His shirt was gone, but so was the wound. His fingers moved over the miraculously healed flesh.

"I was just cleaning you up," Olivia said, getting to her feet. She picked up a bowl from the side of the bed. A stained washcloth hung over the edge, the water inside pink from her efforts. "Your shirt's ruined though, so Lem tore it off."

He took another sip of water. "What happened?"

"You tell us," Lem said and Manfred turned his head to see Lem sitting, fingers steepled, in the padded chair across the room. "How did you come to end up with a knife in your chest?"

Manfred shrugged, told them about Sara, how he'd turned his back for just a moment, that Fiji deciding to bring him cookies had made his assailant flee.

"And then you pulled out the knife," Olivia scolded. "Don't you know better than that? Leave it in the wound until you can get medical attention, it acts to plug the injury. You yanked it out and you almost bled to death."

"Sorry."

Olivia rolled her eyes. Lem got to his feet with the grace Manfred had always admired.

"I had to give you my blood," Lem said, ice blue eyes fixed on Manfred. "Just a little. Not enough to turn you but enough to heal you. It was that or watch you die."

Manfred nodded, understanding. "Thank you." 

"There should not be any long lasting effects," Lem said. "But it's always a risky proposition to share blood with a human."

Manfred put down the glass. He nodded to a healing burn mark on Lem's head. "You came outside for me."

"Yes. Only briefly. I threw on my coat," Lem said, "I probably should have put on my hat instead." His fingers danced above the burn.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll feed him in a moment," Olivia said. "He'll heal." She gave Lem a warm smile.

"I should do that," Manfred said. "This is my fault."

Lem shook his head. "It is not your fault. For now, give yourself time to recover," he said. "This was a traumatic experience, and while the physical wound is gone, you may need a little time to come to terms with it."

"Isn't that what you do? Take away the bad memories?" Manfred would gladly give up the moment Sara plunged the blade into him.

"No. Not the memories," Lem said patiently. "Only the emotional pain. If you find it difficult to live with, we can talk later. But this is hardly the first time you've dealt with someone who wanted to kill you. You're resilient. For a human."

A slight twitch at the corner of his lips showed that the latter was meant as a joke and not an insult.

"If you can't sleep, tell us," Olivia said, picking up the towel she'd been using to dry him with. "We can help with that until you feel better."

Manfred gave her a smile. "I'm still tired, I think."

Lem frowned, Olivia bunching up the towel in her hands.

"What?"

"There was significant blood loss," Lem mused, almost to himself. "Some humans report euphoria after drinking vampire blood, others a sense of well being. Exhaustion is unknown, though I only gave you a little…and you are a psychic, not fully human."

Manfred slid his legs over the side of the bed, got to his feet. "I was already tired. I barely slept last night," he offered. He'd had a headache and it had taken a while for his pills to kick in. A thought occurred. "How long was I out?"

"Only a few minutes."

Manfred wiggled his fingers, his toes, rolled his shoulders. There was something nagging at him, a sense of something not-right, but he couldn't place it. Almost like having dragged luggage around all day and then, having stowed it in a hotel room, feeling bereft of it, the feeling that he was missing something.

There was a knock on the door. Olivia opened it and Fiji came in, something clutched in one hand. She stared at Manfred for a moment before she threw herself at him, enveloping him in a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, stroked at her hair, her head pressed just below his shoulder, his other hand at the small of her back.

"Thank Goddess," Fiji said, muffled against him. She lifted her head to look up at him. "I thought you were dead."

"I think I almost was." Manfred released her and she gave him the thing in her hands. One of his black t-shirts to replace the ruined one. He was touched by the thoughtful gesture.

"I hope you don't mind my getting a clean one from your drawer," Fiji said.

"No. Thank you." He pulled on the t-shirt. "If you hadn't brought me cookies when you did –"

"I know. I know." She blinked hard, shook her head. Then she took his hand. "But I did. Come on. I'll make you some tea. We can give Olivia and Lem some privacy."

"Thank you both," Manfred said and Olivia and Lem nodded. He followed Fiji out, through the pawn store and into the daylight. They crossed the empty street and went into The Inquiring Mind.

Fiji insisted he sit while she went to boil water. Manfred sat back and stared at the ceiling.

It was always peaceful in Fiji's store, warded against the dead, but even though she'd warded his house for him, the sense of serenity here was different. Maybe it was the incense she burned – a hint of lemon and sandalwood in the air today – or all the magical workings that required frequent cleansings of the area, or even Fiji's presence itself, but Manfred always felt calmer the moment he crossed the threshold.

Fiji pressed a steaming mug into his hands. He thanked her, and she smiled, sitting next to him. She unnecessarily smoothed back a lock of his hair, but he didn't mind, glad of the affection.

"Do you want a cookie? I still have some in the kitchen," Fiji said.

"No." He wasn't hungry. "Thanks anyway."

They sat in silence for a while. He sipped the tea; it had an aroma of lavender and pine.

At last Fiji stirred. "What happened, Manfred? Who was that woman?"

He told her what little he knew about Sara, though on reflection everything she'd said could have been lies. For all he knew there was never a dead fiancé. 

"Do you think we should call the police?" he asked, though it was probably going to be difficult to explain that he'd let some strange woman into his house and she'd stabbed him but no, officer, the wound wasn't there now.

Fiji shook her head. "We'll handle this. Bobo bagged up the knife. It's unusual. I've sold athames that look similar and I swear I've seen something like it before. We might be able to trace it. And Olivia's good at tracking people. If you let her see Sara's emails maybe she can find the woman."

Manfred was almost relieved they wouldn't involve the authorities, having had mixed experiences with them in the past, and knowing that Midnighters on the whole preferred not to trust their secrets around outsiders. "An athame?"

"Some Wiccans use it as a ritual knife for directing energy. The boline is a white handled equivalent used for any physical cutting of herbs or cords."

"Right." Manfred finished his tea. "I should let you get back to work. I might go home and sleep for a while."

Fiji's hand closed on his arm. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Bobo's cleaning the lounge," she said.

All the blood. Maybe he wouldn't have to forfeit his deposit after all, which would be nice. Though truthfully Manfred was even more grateful that Bobo had taken it upon himself to scrub the floor so that he wouldn't have to spend the rest of the day cleaning up his own blood.

"You can sleep here," Fiji offered. "I'd closed the store for lunch and hadn't reopened when I brought you the cookies. I don't mind staying closed for the rest of the day. I've got some plants to see to outside so I won't disturb you."

If he couldn't sleep in his own bed, then Manfred thought he might at least go back to the RV and said so.

Fiji wasn't entirely happy at letting him out of her sight – she was possibly more spooked by having witnessed the event than he was from living it. Nonetheless she let him go, though watching from the doorway to make sure he didn't collapse in the street.

Manfred climbed into the van. "Grandma? You there? It's been a hell of a day."

She wasn't, but she came and went as she pleased, tethered to the van but not always present.

He didn't even take off his boots, just went to the back of the vehicle, threw himself onto the narrow bed, and slept.

*

"Manfred." Olivia shook him again and he woke with a start.

"Hey?"

"You've been asleep for hours."

It was dark outside he realised, sitting up with care. If he didn't get up now he wouldn't sleep tonight.

"You have to eat something," Olivia said. "Either you come to the diner, or I can bring something here for you. But Lem says you have to eat."

To prove he wasn't a vampire, possibly. Manfred nodded, relieved to find he was getting his appetite back. "I'll come with you," he said.

The cool night air woke him up fully. Olivia filled him in on the short walk to Home Cooking, how she'd looked into Sara and was waiting for some contacts to call her back.

Lem was already seated at the table with a glass of water in front of him. Emilio arrived just after Manfred and Olivia, with Fiji and Bobo joining them a few moments later. Joe and Chuy were still away on vacation, celebrating an anniversary that was probably more like their 1025th than their 25th.

Emilio insisted on saying grace, and had things to say about gratitude, but that was the only reference anyone made to the events of the day, at least until they'd all eaten. 

"Can I go back to my house?" Manfred asked as he enjoyed a rich toffee pudding. Madonna had given it to him on the house, in quiet acknowledgement of his near death experience.

"Yes," Olivia said, after a nod from Bobo. "But make sure you lock all the doors and windows. Don't answer the door to anyone you don’t know. Call me if you're worried. Until we find out more about this Sara, we need to be careful. She could come back. We'll all keep an eye out."

She was clearly annoyed she hadn't seen Sara arrive this morning. Manfred nodded.

"I can stay with you," Bobo offered. "I'll sleep on the couch."

Fiji nodded but Manfred shook his head.

"There's no need," he said. "I'll be fine." Fiji wasn't happy about that, but Bobo nodded and told him to call if he changed his mind.

Olivia and Lem walked him home, no doubt waiting to hear the lock turn before they left him alone. He had a feeling one or both would keep an eye on the house throughout the night.

The floors were clean. The kitchen was tidy. No cookies, no broken glass, no blood. His computer chair was pushed to one side, probably where Olivia had shoved it after she'd finished working on tracking the emails. Manfred sat at the computer. Olivia had deleted all of Sara's emails, presumably after copying them. He answered a few other client questions and checked on his websites. He couldn't focus enough to work however and soon gave up.

He went to bed, not hoping for sleep, but dozing off anyway, and he slept soundly until morning.

*

After breakfast, Manfred washed the dishes and made himself a second cup of coffee. He worked on the websites for a while. No actual psychic visions presented themselves, no particular feelings about any of the clients rose up, and so he gave out suitably vague advice, in one case however strongly advising the client to get the hell out of what sounded like an abusive and dangerous relationship.

When it was almost lunchtime he pushed his chair back from the desk. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, decided to take a short walk. Maybe Bobo had found out more about the blade.

The pawn store was devoid of customers. Bobo, dusting some of the knick-knacks, gave him a warm smile.

"Hey. How you doing?"

"Fine." Manfred frowned. Better than fine. He didn't much like the pawn shop as a rule. The whispers, echoes of spirits and events emanating from many of the objects disturbed him, hissing at his ears and making his psychic senses tingle unpleasantly. But today the shop was silent, as quiet as Fiji's store or his house.

"Fiji's in the back, looking through some books," Bobo said. "She's convinced she's seen the blade somewhere before. We'll figure this out."

Manfred nodded, barely listening. He picked up a plate, fine china with roses and a date written in gold. An anniversary gift, most likely, something personal, sentimental. Yet he felt nothing, as if there were no memories attached to it, not even good ones.

With a sense of foreboding he moved to study an old call bell, the sort hotels always used to have on their front desk to ring for service. The antique had been touched by many people and been present through many time periods and events. It had been in the store for a while and had always felt "busy" to him, even from a distance.

He picked it up, the battered brass cool in his hands, but he felt no psychic energy from it at all.

"Manfred?"

He shoved the bell back onto the shelf, making it give an indignant ring. "I have to go," he said and dashed out of the shop, leaving a worried and bewildered Bobo staring after him.

*

Manfred ran to the RV, the door swinging open and slamming against the metal siding as he threw it open.

"Grandma! Xylda! Where are you?"

The van was empty. There was no sign of Xylda's spirit.

"No, no, no, no." Manfred shook his head. "Xylda Bernardo, show yourself!"

Nothing.

In a blind panic Manfred stumbled out of the van, not even stopping to close the door. He ran to the church, throwing open the doors and barging into the sacred space. 

Emilio had been sitting in quiet contemplation, a Bible in his hand, but now he placed the book aside and got to his feet, moving to meet him halfway up the aisle.

"Manfred." He put a steadying hand on Manfred's shoulder. "Sit," he urged and they took a pew.

Manfred was breathless, ran his hands through his hair, mussing the brown locks further. 

"Take your time," Emilio said. He clasped his hands together, utterly calm and every inch the compassionate clergyman. "You're safe here."

Manfred nodded, gave a bitter laugh. "I need something dead."

Emilio merely raised an eyebrow.

"Recently dead," Manfred went on.

"May I ask why?" There was no judgement in his tone.

Manfred swallowed, his breathing still shallow. "It was quiet in the pawn shop. It's never quiet. Ever since I woke up after the stabbing there's been something missing and now I think I know what. My connection to the world beyond the Veil."

Emilio gave a momentary frown, then tipped his head. "All right. Come with me."

He stood and Manfred followed him back outside and to a small mound in one corner of the cemetery. Emilio gestured to the fresh grave.

"Roadkill from last night," he said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "Sudden and traumatic enough that the spirit might linger a while? Can you read animals?"

"Sometimes," Manfred said. In the absence of a human corpse, he would try and make do.

He crouched down, touched the large pebble marking the hastily prepared and anonymous burial site. He ran his fingers over the soil, seeking for any connection at all.

"I feel nothing," Manfred said at last, his voice choked with emotion. "My powers are gone."

Emilio crouched next to him. "Do not despair," he said.

Manfred sat down on the dusty ground, numb.

There had been many times he'd longed for a normal life. His clients had regular jobs, suburban homes, pets, children, a sense of community and belonging as they put down roots. Manfred had travelled with Xylda most of his life, their nomadic lifestyle suiting their psychic business, half-real and half-showmanship.

Sometimes his abilities had overwhelmed him, the spirits terrifying, the possessions painful, and reliving their last moments often horrific. Sometimes he'd longed to be normal.

Yet he'd come to understand that to be a medium was a gift, a way to give comfort to the deceased and their loved ones.

It helped that it let him make money, for he had no other skills, no college degree or work experience.

He'd struggled to come to terms with who he was, what he was.

Yet now he was normal, and it was like missing a lung, or seeing only in black and white.

Who was Manfred Bernardo without the psychic energy that ran in his bloodline?

_Blood._

Manfred clutched at Emilio's sleeve. "Lem did this to me."

They got to their feet, Emilio brushing at his clothes, Manfred not caring about the dirt on his own dark blue jeans.

"What do you mean?" Emilio asked but Manfred was already leaving, charging towards to the pawn shop once more.

*

The pawn shop was shut, the sign saying 'back in ten minutes', the door locked and refusing to budge despite Manfred rattling the handle.

He turned, stormed over to Fiji's store. Bobo was there, standing at the counter with Fiji. Olivia was pacing the store, frowning. They all stared as he barged in, the door slamming behind him.

"What did Lem do to me?" Manfred demanded. 

"Saved your life," Olivia said, coming to stand face to face with him, defensive in response to his tone of voice. "What's wrong?"

"He took my powers!"

"What?" Fiji was staring at him. "Manfred-"

"He took my powers," he repeated.

"Leached them?" Olivia asked. "That's not how his abilities work."

Manfred shook his head, frustrated. "It has to be the vampire blood, right? I can't see the dead. I can't talk to Xylda. I can't see beyond the Veil."

Bobo looked stunned. Olivia took a step back.

"I don't think it's the blood," Fiji said in the hush that had fallen over the store. "I knew I'd seen that blade before. I found this in one of my aunt's old books. Look".

She pushed the book forward on the counter. Manfred moved around Olivia and came to look at the yellowed pages of the hefty leather tome.

Manfred stared at the illustration. The double edged blade, the black handle, the intricate silver markings. Same knife. "The Sons of the Holy Light," he said, reading the caption aloud.

"They're a cult," Fiji said. "Their founder claimed he was a descendant of Matthew Hopkins, the Witchfinder General. They hate witches, psychics, anyone who isn't 'pure'. I don't know why you were targeted, because you're not the only one in Midnight the cult hates."

Manfred ran his fingers over the page. "Thirteen blades for killing witches were blessed by the Pope himself in the 17th century."

"Or so the story goes," Fiji said.

Bobo patted a plastic bag sitting near the cash register; Manfred glimpsed the bloody knife inside the bag. "If it's so valuable she didn't mean to leave it behind and even if she wouldn't risk returning to see if you're dead, she'll probably come back for it. I'll lock it in the safe again tonight and we'll keep an eye out."

Manfred returned his attention to the book. "The Sons of the Holy Light claimed that their blades could pierce a witch's soul," he read aloud, "severing her connection to the devil and sending her thus to heaven. Therefore it was not murder to execute a witch, but an act of salvation."

His voice broke on the last word. Fiji reached over and put her hand on his.

"We are not evil, Manfred," she said. "What has been done to you is the evil thing. And if there is any way to undo it, we will find it."

He nodded, not because he believed her but because he didn't have the strength to argue. Pulling free of Fiji, he turned and walked out.

It was an easy decision - not even a decision, but more like instinct. It wouldn't take long to pack. He'd barely unpacked. He couldn't bear to even gather up his clothes, merely grabbing his jacket from the house, picking up the keys to the RV, slipping on his sunglasses. His hand hovered over his pills.

Would he even need those now? No spirits, no headaches. A silver lining in a world turned grey and hopeless. He shoved the bottle in his pocket anyway and then headed out to the RV.

He sat in the driver's seat for a moment, willing Xylda to appear. When she didn't, he started the engine.

Olivia stood in front the van, blocking his way.

He leaned out of the side window. "What are you doing?"

"Me? What are you doing?" She had her hands on her hips, a worried scowl on her face. "You can't leave."

"I think I can!" He'd never done well with being told not to do things.

Olivia shook her head. "Where are you going?"

Good question. "Anywhere but here."

"Then I'll come with you," Olivia said. "We can go into the desert and you can scream at the sky. Or you can stay here and talk. I've got beer if you want to get drunk. Anything you want, but don't leave, not like this, not alone. We're worried."

Across the street, Fiji and Bobo were standing outside the store, watching the showdown. Fiji had her arms clasped about her, clearly distressed, Bobo with one arm around her waist.

Manfred felt a pang of guilt. He turned off the engine and climbed out of the van.

"Good," Olivia said, relaxing. "I know you're hurting, but we will get through this. We need you to be okay, Manfred. We need you alive."

He took off his sunglasses, realising what she was implying. "I wasn't," he said. "I'm not-"

What if he was? Some thought suicide was a sin but Manfred had seen far more terrible things than wanting to die. He'd watched Xylda fight and finally succumb to cancer though, and she'd be furious if he gave in so easily. He was lost right now, and his impulse whenever things got difficult was to run. Drive until he'd put his problems behind him, until he felt calmer and could make a new plan.

Of course you couldn't outrun yourself.

"You mentioned beer," he said at last.

*

Olivia let him drink an entire beer in silence. Manfred admired her ability to stay quiet and still, though he knew she'd cultivated it, if not purely as a defence mechanism, then as a means to enact justice for the wrongs done to her. He tried to not pry into her work, but everyone knew she was an assassin, and sometimes he wondered how many people she'd killed, how many hours she'd spent on rooftops or in cars, watching her target, waiting for the right time to strike.

They were sitting by the river. When he'd moved to Midnight the town had turned out for a picnic here, except the discovery of Aubrey's body had put a stop to the fun. It was sunny today, as then, and there was nothing to disturb them. Not that he'd know if there was. He'd never be disturbed by a spirit again.

Without a word, Olivia opened a second bottle and handed it to him. She was only half-way through her first. Her hair was half-tied back, the breeze toying with the loose lengths. She'd discarded her red leather jacket, and sat cross-legged next to Manfred on the plaid woollen blanket, the cooler at her elbow.

"Thank you," he said, after taking a sip of beer. "It's nice out here."

She gave a wry smile. "Sometimes Lem and I come out here to stargaze."

"That's nice. Different," he acknowledged, wondering what it would be to never feel the sun on his skin again. "But nice."

Olivia turned her head. "You're ready to talk now?"

"What's to say?" He used his thumbnail to pick at the label where one corner had begun to peel away from the bottle. "Some woman I'd never met stabbed me with some mystical dagger and now I'm broken."

"You almost died," Olivia said. "Don't dwell on it, but at least acknowledge it."

"Death doesn't scare me much." he said. "I'm not ungrateful that Lem saved me. I'm glad he did. But losing my abilities hurts."

Olivia nodded. "Why?"

"Why?" Manfred took a long swig of beer. He licked at his lips, tried to explain. "They're part of who I am. Without them I'm nothing. I have no purpose. I've lost my identity. I was Manfred Bernardo, grandson of Xylda, psychic extraordinaire. And now I'm some unemployed loser with a crappy RV and no idea what to do."

She tipped her head. "You don't always get psychic visions though. You sometimes lie to clients."

"Now I'll always be lying. It feels wrong." It was hard to rationalise.

Olivia finished her first beer, put both their empty bottles back into the cooler. "So what would you have done if you'd never had your powers? Your mother doesn't, right? It skipped a generation."

He nodded. Some of these things he'd mentioned, directly or otherwise, but it wouldn't have surprised him if Olivia had run a full background check on him. "I got lucky, or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. I honestly don't know. My ability to communicate with the dead began when I was very young and my mother dumped me with Xylda soon after, unable to deal with it. I never knew any other life, never thought about art college or business school, you know?"

She stared out across the river. Manfred knew it was, on some level, the same story. Her past was troubled and painful in ways his was not, but her path too had been set long before she'd ever had the chance to learn who she was and what she wanted. Circumstances had shaped their lives and taken away many of the choices other people had the chance to decide for themselves.

"Sometimes I'd see a family in a park," he said. "Mom, dad, two kids, maybe a dog. Talking and laughing. The image of normal. I'd think about how they'd be planning dinner. They'd go home to a house and they'd order pizza, watch TV, shower in their own bathroom, sleep in a real bed. And I'd want it almost as much as I didn't want it. And I knew I couldn't have it anyway. That wasn't me, that wasn't my destiny. But now I guess I can have that if I want. Settle down in the suburbs, get some mind-numbing 9-5 job, find a wife…"

Olivia eyed him as he trailed off. "You don't sound excited about the prospect."

"No…and it's not even my choice," he said, choked up. "No-one asked if I wanted to give up my powers. They were taken from me."

"Yes, they were. It's okay to be angry," Olivia said. "It's okay to be upset. It's not okay to run away and pretend you're not feeling anything."

He nodded, staring down at the blanket.

"It's okay," Olivia said again. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder, pulled him closer to her. "It's okay."

He gave in, let go of the emotions he'd been too afraid to fully realise, wept for a few minutes. Olivia didn't say anything more, just stayed where she was, holding him, gazing at the scenery.

At last he lifted one hand, wiped at his face. He took another drink. "Thank you."

She moved her arm, shifted on the blanket to face him. "If anyone is going to kill you it's going to be me," she said. "Not some random asshole with a dagger. Not even you. So, as long as you don't piss me off, you're safe. I've got your back. You're a Midnighter and we're family. No matter what."

He finished his second beer, handed her the empty bottle. For a while they sat, listening to the flowing water and the breeze rustling the grass and trees.

"I never really thought of it," he said. "But I already have the house in a tiny town, with the TV and my own bathroom and a real bed."

Olivia nodded.

"Midnight feels more like home than anywhere has for a long time," he admitted.

"Midnight is special that way," she said. "It draws us in, the different, the lost. It gives us somewhere to belong."

"Even without my powers?"

"You're not getting rid of us that easy," Olivia said. "Certainly not while you're in danger from some weird-ass cult. You leave and I'll hunt you down for your own safety."

She could and she probably would. He gave her a genuine smile.

"You want another beer?" Olivia asked.

"No."

"Do you want to stay here a while longer?"

"Yes," he said, and he lay back, stared up at the cloudless sky and was, for a while at least, at peace.

*

Olivia walked him back to town where Emilio wandered over to join them.

"I've got some calls to make," Olivia said and went inside the pawn shop, the cooler in one hand. Emilio stayed where he was, as if Manfred was a relay baton who'd been passed to the next contestant.

Emilio tipped his head. "Would you give me a hand moving some boxes?"

"Sure." Manfred was certain this was busywork, a suspicion soon confirmed. He followed Emilio into the back room of the church and assisted with moving some cardboard boxes around, putting some things on high shelves and helping rotate the ancient mahogany desk, none of which actually required his help.

"Thank you," Emilio said, when he'd run out of things for Manfred to do. "Will you take some sweet tea?"

The only thing he'd consumed since breakfast was beer and Manfred nodded. They sat in the newly tidied office space with a pitcher of sweet tea and a plate of cookies. Manfred ate four of the sand tarts - more of Fiji's baking, no doubt – and was on his second cup of tea while Emilio was still sipping at a first, leaving the cookies untouched.

"Fiji told me what she discovered," Emilio said. "I do not condone the cult. And I do not believe your powers came from the Devil."

Manfred shrugged, took another cookie. "Doesn't matter now."

"What if there were a way to retrieve your abilities?"

Manfred eyed him hopefully. "Do you have one?"

Emilio shook his head. "Not yet. But I have hope, and faith. Do not be hasty in your despair."

Manfred swallowed a bite of cookie, frowned. "Did Olivia say something to you about me?"

"No," Emilio said. "But I saw her prevent you driving away. I share her concern. You've suffered a loss, but you don't have to shoulder that burden alone. Let me help, if I can. I can provide a sympathetic ear and supportive shoulder to lean on, if nothing else."

"Thank you." Manfred finished his second cup of tea. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" The question was unexpected and honest and demanded honesty in return.

He shrugged. "No. I'm not looking to drown myself in the river the way Olivia seemed to think I was, but I do feel lost."

"Go on." Emilio poured them both more tea.

"I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to Xylda," Manfred said, more unwanted tears welling up. "She promised not to leave me after her death, that she'd stay with me as long as I needed her. She's tethered to the RV but now I can't see her. She's gone, in a way she wasn't before."

Emilio nodded gravely. "That must weigh heavily."

"And what use am I now?" Manfred asked. "My abilities were what made me part of the town. Now I'm just human!"

"As are Bobo, Olivia, and Madonna."

Manfred shook his head. "Olivia's almost supernatural," he said, drawing a slight smile from Emilio.

"She is special," Emilio agreed.

"Madonna's human as far as we know," Manfred went on. "But she keeps her personal life to herself. Does anyone truly know her? Bobo - he was running, this was a good place to hide."

The sun came out, a shaft of light falling through the small window above the desk, glinting on the pitcher's handle.

"As you were running," Emilio said. "But your past with Hightower has been laid to rest. As has Bobo's. Yet you are still both here."

Manfred shrugged. "Bobo has Fiji. And the store. He's built a life here."

"You don't have a life here?"

He hesitated. It was true he'd miss them all if he left. Fiji, Bobo, Olivia, Lem, Emilio, Joe, Chuy, Madonna - or at least her cooking. His house with the bathroom and the double bed. The town that had accepted him despite his weirdness because a psychic was nothing when the reverend was a weretiger and a vampire slept beneath one store while another was owned by a witch.

Would they continue to accept him without powers, as they had always accepted Bobo?

"I'm not sure what my purpose is," Manfred said and then scoffed. "How pathetic does that sound?"

"Not pathetic at all. We all of us strive for meaning in our lives." Emilio tipped his head. "Though I had thought there is a service you might provide."

"Oh?"

"This town has no library but between The Inquiring Mind's public and Fiji's personal books, Bobo's small stock of occult literature, a whole box of ancient tomes I have in the basement, and Lem and Joe's personal collections, we have accumulated quite a store of supernatural knowledge." Emilio glanced at the window. "I know your RV must have books and journals collected by your ancestors, works they found or even wrote. If someone were to catalogue it all and to make it easier to search, more accessible when needed, that would be of great use."

Manfred blinked a few times. "You think I look like a librarian?"

Emilio gave a soft chuckle. "I don't think there is any way a librarian should look or must not look," he said. "And with your web skills, you could scan the books and scrolls, keep them safe in the, the 'cloud'?" He looked up to the sky and the metaphorical storage space.

"I suppose so."

"Preserving knowledge is a worthwhile calling," Emilio said. "Providing knowledge to those who need it, is another. It's something I've thought on before but there has been no-one to take on the mantle. If you were interested, I'm sure we can provide a stipend to cover your financial necessities. But if not, that is your choice. It is an opportunity if you wish it, an offer, nothing more."

Manfred took a final sip of tea. It was, despite his initial recoil, an interesting proposition. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask."

The two men got to their feet.

"I will pray for the return of your abilities," Emilio said, grasping Manfred's shoulder briefly. "What gift was bestowed on you should not have been so cruelly snatched away."

Manfred left before he could be again overwhelmed with emotion.

*

Manfred sat in the RV, wishing he could talk to Xylda. He took out some of his books, turning the pages, and thinking about Emilio's proposition. To have a back-up of these precious, in some cases irreplaceable, materials was a good idea, even without the further step of cataloguing and cross-referencing works to make it easier to look up a demonic entity or find information about a mystical amulet.

It would take a long time just to scan all of the literature in the RV. It was something to do, he supposed.

"If you're here, Grandma, I'm sorry," he said. "My powers are gone so you might be able to hear me, but I can't hear you. I don't know what to do. I carried your power in my blood and I lost it. I'm sorry. I just want to say that I still love you, and I miss you."

He swallowed hard, shed a few more tears. Then he went back to the house, a particularly interesting book in hand, and did some test runs on scanning the pages, which kept him busy until bedtime.

*

The door to the tattoo parlour-cum-nail salon was propped open when Manfred wandered down the street next day. Joe came into view, mopping the floor, as Manfred approached.

"Morning. Good vacation?" Manfred asked.

Joe pushed back a curly lock of hair, moved closer to the doorway. "Fantastic. Like a tenth honeymoon. We got back around 4am this morning. Chuy's asleep with Rasta on the bed snoring alongside him, but I'm ready to get back to work. How have things been here?"

Manfred gave a harsh laugh. "Madonna threw a pecan pie at a rude customer the Monday after you left," he said. "We had a rainstorm that knocked out the power for half a day but it's been pleasant ever since. And the other day some woman calling herself Sara stabbed me in the chest, so that was fun."

Moved by the words rather than Manfred's attempt at sarcasm, Joe put aside the mop. "She stabbed you?"

"Right here," Manfred said, tapping just below his breastbone. "Lem gave me his blood, which is the only reason I survived."

"Manfred." Joe pulled him into a rough hug. "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd been here."

"That's not even the worst of it," Manfred said, when Joe drew back.

"There's worse than nearly dying?"

Manfred nodded. "Fiji looked up the dagger and it's a mystical blade from some cult calling themselves The Sons of the Holy Light. And now my powers are gone. I'm not a medium anymore. There's a joke I think, about being a small or a large…"

Joe's eyes widened. "The Sons of the Holy Light? Those shitbags?"

Manfred had never heard Joe refer to anyone so crudely. "You've heard of them?"

Joe nodded fervently, a scowl on his face. "Can you describe the dagger? I'd like to be sure."

"Better," Manfred said. "I can show you."

*

Bobo and Manfred watched as Joe lifted the plastic bag, examining it. His eyes narrowed and his lip curled. "Fuckers," he said and the bag went up in a flash of light and white smoke, the blade with it.

Manfred took a step back, startled. Joe used his powers the least of anyone and this wasn't something he'd even known was possible.

"Sorry," Joe said, after a long moment of stunned silence. "That was evidence, I guess."

"We weren't going to involve the police anyway," Manfred said.

"I've got photos of it," Bobo offered, which was practical of him.

Joe shook his head. "Well, one less of those damn daggers now. They can kill a demon, or an angel, if they're driven directly into our hearts." He looked away. "I've seen it done."

"Joe," Manfred began in sympathy but Joe shook his head.

"It was a long time ago," he said, though his reaction suggested his anger still remained. "I destroyed the dagger and the cult member back then."

Bobo lifted an eyebrow. "Angels? The book we found said the cult killed witches and severed their connection to the devil."

Joe sighed. "That blade isn't for severing a connection to the devil, it cuts away any connection to the world beyond our physical reality. A witch's power or," and he turned to Manfred, "your gift. It can kill an angel by destroying our ability to heal, for our hearts contain that power, due to our connection to God. That cult twisted everything good and decent for their own ends. This woman didn't deliver you from evil."

"Everyone keeps saying that," Manfred told him. "It doesn't help."

Joe nodded. "I know. Why were you targeted though? Was it personal?"

Manfred couldn't answer that.

"Olivia went out early this morning," Bobo said. "She thinks she's got a lead on Sara. Maybe we'll get some answers soon."

Joe put a hand on Manfred's shoulder, gripping him tightly. "I had no idea the cult was active again. If I'd been here, this Sara would have answered to me. I'll not lose anyone else to them."

Manfred swallowed, nodded.

Joe released his grip. "I know that's not enough. Come with me," he said.

Manfred followed Joe outside and to the edge of town.

"Do you want your powers back?" Joe asked, as they left Midnight behind and headed off the beaten track. "I know they take a toll on you. I think we need someone with psychic abilities for the coming fight, but I won't try and restore your connection to the world beyond the Veil if you don't want it."

Joe could fix him? Manfred blinked a few times, considered his options. That Joe might be able to restore his powers was something he hadn't dared hope for. That Joe was making it Manfred's choice was something equally precious.

He didn't consider it for long. Despite the difficulties and responsibilities his gifts had brought, Manfred had lived with them for too long to willingly give them up. They were part of who he was, and he'd take any chance at regaining them.

"I'd like to try," Manfred said.

When they were a few minutes walk away from Midnight they stopped. Joe pulled his shirt off, tossing it to one side.

"You too," he told Manfred.

Manfred discarded his own t-shirt more slowly, wondering what he was letting himself in for.

Wings sprouted from Joe's back. They were large and beautiful and he flapped them a few times as if stretching them, the snowy white plumage amazing to behold.

Joe reached down, near to his side, and plucked a single feather, wincing as he did. He held out the feather, nodded to Manfred to take it.

Manfred accepted the gift, the downy delicate feather almost weightless in his palm.

"Hold it against where she stabbed you," Joe said, voice gentle. "Remember that moment. Bring forth the shock of it, the pain."

Manfred pressed his palm to his lower chest, the feather almost intangible against his skin. He recalled the moment the knife had pierced his body, the surprise he'd felt, Fiji's panic, the moment he'd foolishly pulled the blade out and the accompanying rush of blood. His breathing quickened as he remembered the cold, the knowledge of impending death, the grief in Fiji's eyes.

"It's all right," Joe said huskily, moving forward. "That was an evil act. This is a divine one."

Joe's palm covered Manfred's hand, his other hand on the small of Manfred's back, holding him still. Light began to glow, first the wings, then all around Joe –his aura - before the brightness spread and surrounded them both.

It was warm and safe here. There was the scent of wild flowers and freshly baked bread in the air, a feeling like a maternal hug, a humming in his veins like a shot of brandy on a cold day. A sense of peace and contentment that filled Manfred until he was overwhelmed by it, consumed by it, part of it.

Time stood still.

Then there was a moment of agony, worse than the initial knife wound, but Joe held him tighter, saying soothing things which he caught the sense of if not the words themselves. The breeze turned cold but quickly died away. The brightness faded.

"Manfred. Hey." Joe released him slowly, ensuring he wasn't going to fall over. He folded his wings and they vanished once more.

"Is that it? Did you fix it?" Manfred lifted his hand. His palm was empty, the feather gone.

Joe passed him his t-shirt, picking up his own shirt. "We can't be sure until you try contacting the spirit world."

Manfred looked immediately back towards the town. "Xylda."

*

Manfred darted into the RV. Xylda was sitting in the passenger seat, calmly puffing on her hookah pipe.

"Grandma!" He tried to hug her in his relief, laughing at himself as his arms went through her. He sat down in the driver's seat. "I'm so glad to see you."

"You too," she said with a grin. "After all that upset when you clearly couldn't see me I was worried I might never get to speak you again. Tell me everything, now we can talk again."

"I barely know where to start."

He began with the emails, Sara showing up at the house. Xylda made appropriate sympathetic noises though criticised him for letting the woman in so easily. If Xylda and Olivia could converse they would no doubt get along.

Manfred moved on to Lem saving him, which Xylda thought probably paid off any debt owed to her for giving him the ability to feed on energy as well as blood. Then there was Olivia vowing to find Sara, Fiji discovering the truth about the blade.

"Sons of the Holy Light," Xylda said with disdain. "I heard rumours about them, back in the day. Thought they'd gone, most taken out by their would-be victims."

"Joe thought the same thing," Manfred said. He told Xylda about Joe's timely return, the destruction of the dagger, and the restoration of his powers.

"You've had a busy couple of days," Xylda said.

Manfred gave a nervous laugh. "You could say that."

"Manfred," Xylda said, leaning over to him. "I don't love you because you have the gift. I love you unconditionally. I'll always love you. Much as I was disappointed when you couldn't see me, sad for your loss, I wasn't angry. I'd have moved on soon enough. One day I will move on."

"Don't say that." He didn't want to hear about her leaving him, not when he'd only now got her back in his life.

Xylda waved one hand, dismissing his concerns. "The point is, you're not only your psychic abilities. Promise me you'll remember that."

"I'll try." Emilio had tried to tell him, Olivia too, everyone rallying around him, supporting him. Manfred chewed at his lower lip a moment, overwhelmed. "I didn't know what I was going to do without my gift though. I thought I'd feel free, somehow, but I just felt - bereft. I thought about leaving Midnight - was going to, as I'm sure you saw."

"The stern blonde wouldn't let you," Xylda said with satisfaction.

"Olivia," Manfred said. "Yes, she stopped me, and I'm glad. Midnight is home now. And to be honest, that scares me almost as much as losing my powers. Settling down and trusting people means being vulnerable, taking responsibility, and not leaving whenever there's trouble. That's new to me. I've never had a place I belonged, except for this RV. You were my home, the road was where we lived."

"I know."

He heard the guilt. "I don't blame you. Our lives were always going to be complicated. We had some good times. But now I'm somewhere I belong, I'm going to try and appreciate it."

"You do that," Xylda said.

Manfred took a deep breath. "Speaking of which, I have more people to tell my good news to. I'll be back later."

"Have fun with your friends," Xylda said. "You'll always know where I am."

*

At her store, Fiji hugged Manfred. "I'm so happy for you," she said. "We'll celebrate later at the diner, okay?"

Manfred agreed and went to talk to Bobo. He didn't even mind the background whispers of psychic energy in the store for now they were a sign that his powers were back.

"Bobo?" Manfred called.

Bobo came from the back of the store, mug of coffee in hand. "Manfred," he said with a smile. "How are you?"

"Good," he said. "Joe is a literal miracle worker."

Bobo was delighted when Manfred explained, gave him a one-armed hug. "That's great. We got our psychic back! You'll stay with us now, right?"

"Yes."

Bobo put down his mug. "We wanted you to stay in town regardless," he said, tone serious.

Manfred nodded. "I know."

"We should celebrate," Bobo said, lightening the mood once more.

"Fiji's already making plans for this evening."

"Nice." Bobo gestured. "Want a coffee?"

The door opened before he could answer and Olivia walked in. 

She frowned. "Manfred. I'm glad you're here."

"He got his powers back," Bobo crowed.

Olivia looked to Manfred for confirmation. He nodded. 

"Joe," he said.

"Joe's back? I leave town for five minutes and things kick off," Olivia said in mock consternation. She was more serious when she said, "I'm glad he helped you. Especially as my news isn't so good. Do you want to take a walk? I know this isn't your favourite place."

Manfred appreciated Olivia's offer. They left Bobo behind to watch the store, though his disappointment at not hearing the news firsthand was evident.

"I tracked Sara down," Olivia said as soon as they were outside. "Real name Sadie Flowers, a theatre usher living in Cuero. I got a photo, texted it to Fiji for confirmation, though Fiji said the woman was wearing a veil and she couldn't be entirely sure. So I approached Sara-slash-Sadie at her crappy apartment, and I said I'd come into possession of a dagger. Showed her one of Bobo's pictures and told her a pawn shop owner knew religious artefacts were an interest of mine, and he'd sold it to me for a fraction of it's worth. I thought she might like to buy it from me."

"She believed you?"

"She was more suspicious of me than you were of her," Olivia said. "She wanted the blade back, obviously, but she also wanted to know how I found her. I had a cover story but it wasn't quite good enough. I had hoped to persuade her to introduce me to the rest of the cult but it was clear she wouldn't go near them without the dagger."

Understandable. She'd probably face punishment for losing such a valuable item. 

"She started to back away, asked about the pawn shop," Olivia went on. "She became agitated, guessed this was about you. She said I was Gomory, come for vengeance."

"Gomory?" Manfred frowned. "I think I've heard the name before. A demon, maybe?"

Olivia shrugged. "She was insisting you had it coming. Telling me 'He was a false prophet, an evildoer, a sinner I sent to God' and so on. You sure you didn't know her?"

"Never seen her before."

"The way she was ranting made it sound personal," Olivia said, unconvinced. "She said she'd make amends but the next thing I knew she pulled a gun from under a pile of papers instead. But she didn't want to kill me. If you're right about Gomory and she thought I was a demon, maybe she didn't expect it would work anyway. She said 'All evildoers will perish by the Holy Light' and I tried to grab her but she pressed the gun against her head and pulled the trigger."

Manfred shook his head.

"I can dig around some more later but obviously I had to get out of there," Olivia said. "I took her phone but there'll be no more answers directly from her, not unless you can speak with her spirit. And I'm pretty sure even if you could summon her, she'd try and possess you in order to make you kill yourself too. I'm sorry I couldn't question her further."

"Thanks anyway," Manfred said. "You did your best and at least she's no longer physically a threat to me." He could take precautions against being possessed by her, unlikely as it seemed for someone like Sara to stick around given their hatred of the spirit world, and his house was warded.

Though why Sara/Sadie had singled him out and what had happened to make her willing to die in the name of the cult would continue to nag at him.

Olivia nodded. "We'll talk more tonight. I need some sleep and I want to see Lem."

"Fiji said we'll celebrate at the diner this evening."

"Sounds good."

Olivia turned and headed back the way they'd come. Manfred stopped in at the tattoo parlour to see Chuy and to thank Joe again for his help. Chuy showed Manfred some of the vacation photos and then said he had to take Rasta for a walk. Manfred accompanied him, enjoying the sunshine. Life was good.

"Joe says he won't leave Midnight again," Chuy said as they watched Rasta sniff at an inviting bush. "Not until he's sure the cult is no longer a threat to any of us."

Which was some reassurance.

On his way back to the house, Manfred made one final stop, to talk with Emilio. The reverend was sweeping the flagstones around the font.

"My prayers have been answered," Emilio said with a smile when Manfred told him what Joe had done. "Did I not tell you to have faith?"

"You did," Manfred agreed. "But I was thinking about what you said, about how useful it would be to pool all our knowledge. Just because I have my psychic abilities back, doesn't mean I shouldn't still look into that."

Emilio paused in his sweeping, leaning on the broom. "Truly?"

"Yes. We'd need to organise some sort of schedule, decide which materials take priority, figure out a system for cataloguing it all," Manfred said. "But it's a good idea."

Emilio smiled.

Manfred made to leave, paused. "Do you know the name Gomory?"

"It's said to be the name of a fallen angel," Emilio said, beginning to sweep once more. It made a twisted sense for Sara to have labelled Olivia an avenging angel, but Manfred couldn't help but grin when Emilio added, "Gomory generally appears as a woman who rides a camel."

Olivia on a camel. Manfred thought he could Photoshop something as a joke, and then thought better of it. Best not to piss off their deadly assassin, even though he thought Lem would rather enjoy the joke.

*

That evening Olivia collected Manfred from his house to walk him to the diner.

"Can you spare an hour tomorrow?" she asked as they strolled along.

"Sure. What for?"

"I'll come to your house and we'll work on some self-defence moves."

"We will?"

"Yes," she said, giving him a stern look. "I don't want a repeat of you getting stabbed."

"No-one wants that," Manfred agreed.

"Nor you getting shot," Olivia went on. "Or getting hit over the head. Kidnapped. Tortured. I swear I can't take my eyes off you for five minutes without you getting attacked by something supernatural, and now humans are after you too. So yes. Self-defence classes."

"Yes, ma'am," Manfred said.

"Don't sass me or I'll kick your ass," Olivia said.

"You'll kick my ass anyway."

"Only at first," she said with an encouraging smile.

At the diner everyone else was already present, Chuy showing off more of their vacation photos and Bobo telling a funny story about a customer. Manfred and Olivia took their seats and as soon as Bobo had finished his tale, his raised his beer in Manfred's direction.

"Glad to have you with us," he said. "It's been a rough few days but we're all here and whole, and that's something to be thankful for."

Olivia cleared her throat. "I don't like to put a dampener on things, but while Sadie aka Sara is dead it seems there are more of the Sons of the Holy Light out there. It also looks as if Manfred was personally targeted, but sooner or later one of these assholes might come after someone else in town. I'll keep trying to find out more, but we need to be ready. We have to be on our guard."

Bobo took Fiji's hand, squeezed it. "Anything I can do, say the word," he said.

Joe already had one arm around Chuy and held him tighter. "I won't rest until we're safe," Joe said.

Lem nodded. "Nor I."

"We are stronger together," Emilio said.

"Always," Fiji agreed.

Manfred got to his feet. "You're right, Bobo. It has been a rough few days and I have some people to thank. Lem, without your blood, I'd be dead. You came into the sun for me and I can't thank you enough. Joe, without your Light, I'd be powerless, and I'm grateful beyond words for you restoring my psychic abilities."

Lem inclined his head in acceptance. Joe nodded and said, "I'm glad I could undo at least one bad thing that damn cult did."

"But all of you have helped me," Manfred went on. "It's made me realise that Midnight is my home and that this is where I belong. Emilio and I have been discussing a project and we need to talk more about it, but it's something that the whole town will benefit from. I'm staying to help with that, but I realise I want to be here regardless. So, thank you for welcoming me, and supporting me. I've heard you all say from time to time that Midnighters are family and over the last few days I've come to appreciate what that means, and that you include me in that definition."

He raised his glass. "To family."

"To family," everyone agreed. There were no more toasts after that, but there was eating, drinking, and general merriment. The threat wasn't over but Midnighters had always refused to live in fear. They chose instead to celebrate the good, prepare for the bad, certain that they would face the future together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tinamour for the beta reading and encouragement!  
> And to mekare for the amazing cover art!  
> And to the sfbb mod who makes the big bang possible :)
> 
> [Tumblr promo post](https://meridianrosewrites.tumblr.com/post/172716116477/powerless-meridianrose-meridianrose)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art: Powerless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14210829) by [mekare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mekare/pseuds/mekare)




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